Reparations
by Rosie Moriarty
Summary: After the War, Harry returns to Hogwarts for an eighth year. However, he has to deal with some after effects of the War, his feelings for Draco Malfoy and the fact that strange things are continuing to happen at Hogwarts. Drarry fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Returning to Hogwarts after the War was almost bittersweet to Harry. The castle was on its way to returning to normal, with Snape teaching Potions again after Slughorn retired and Lupin resumed teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione spent nearly every free hour she got in the library, Neville was still hopeless with Potions, Snape still reveled in taking House Points from Gryffindor, Peeves was still inconveniencing everyone every chance he got. Luna still wandered the halls, seemingly in a daze.

Yet as much as Harry wanted to believe that everything was normal, everything around him reminded him that there were too many things missing, too many people lost, for anything to "go back to normal." There were still parts of Hogwarts covered in rubble from stray curses. He still expected to see Dumbledore walking the halls, passing out bits of odd advice and lemon drops. He knew that if he went down to the kitchens, he wouldn't find Dobby with his mismatched wardrobe, making treacle tarts. There was only one twin haunting the aisles of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Harry would never see Sirius again, never ask Hedwig to send letters for him. He would never have to return to the Durselys'. He no longer needed to look around every corner, waiting for someone to try and kill him.

Sometimes things got too overwhelming and Harry felt like he was drowning, so many nights found Harry on the Astronomy Tower, staring up at the cosmos and thinking. Thinking about what life would have been like without the Prophecy, with living, loving parents, with a godfather that hadn't been in Azkaban for twelve years and had to be on the run for two years before a crazy Bellatrix Lestrange murdered him. Occasionally he even wondered what would have happened if he taken Draco Malfoy's hand eight years ago, if he might have been able to help him somehow.

That was something else that had changed, Harry realized. He and Draco (when had Malfoy become Draco to him?) seemed to have struck some kind of an understanding. Harry had to admit that he was proud of the Slytherin. It had taken a lot of Gryffindor courage to turn his back on his family and side with the light. Now their relationship was less about fighting with each other, although it did still happen occasionally, and more about having a quiet understanding of each other. Harry supposed that he was probably one of the only other people who knew what Draco had gone through under the fear and influence of Voldemort, just as Draco was the only person who really knew understood what having the Prophecy hanging over Harry was like, how obsessive and insane Voldemort really was.

Harry was thankful that the other Hogwarts students hadn't had to experience the same things he and Draco had, but he did find it lonely sometimes. Not even Ron and Hermione knew everything that had transpired between him and Voldemort. They did their best, but sometimes Harry needed to get away, to be able to process everything that had happened without prying eyes, people expecting him to be the Golden Boy, the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived. It was exhausting.

Harry sat on the floor, leaning against the wall of the Astronomy Tower and staring out across the forest and the lake, the moon reflecting off the water, sifting through everything he could bring himself to pick up and handle tonight, when he heard quiet steps on the stairs. Harry glanced over and was surprised to see a platinum blonde Slytherin hovering by the stairs.

Draco had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers, shirt collar unbuttoned and his green and silver tie was mysteriously absent. Harry was sure he hadn't seen Draco in public in such a state of undress in years. Granted, it was also two in the morning, so there weren't many people out and about to observe him. Harry blinked as he realized that he was openly ogling Draco Malfoy.

Draco slowly walked toward Harry. He wasn't sure his presence was welcome considering their history, but Harry hadn't told him to leave, either. A shiver of excitement slid its way down Draco's spine when he realized that Harry was scanning him head to toe. Draco stubbornly ignored the dark voice that said Harry was probably doing it out of suspicion.

Draco sat down next to Harry, pulling a roll wrapped in a napkin out of his pocket and handing it Harry as he did so. "You missed dinner," he said by way of explanation.

Harry looked at him quizzically but accepted the roll. "You noticed?" he asked quietly.

"Of course I noticed, the seven year habit of insulting your every move does occasionally have it's perks."

Harry found himself somewhat pleased that Draco had noticed his absence and actually seemed…concerned? Was that right? Maybe he was reading too much into this. "How did you know where I'd be?"

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted. "I have a fully functioning brain, Potter, and unlike you, I know how to use it."

Harry grinned. The insult lacked its usual venom and, Harry hoped, it contained a bit of fondness. For Merlin's sake, he was being ridiculous. There was no way Draco Malfoy, of all people, was gay. No way.

The two boys sat next to each other in silence for a while, staring out at the expanse of night before them. Harry picked absentmindedly at the roll. He found he hadn't had much of an appetite since the War.

"Eat the roll before I shove it down your throat," Draco said calmly, still staring out at the landscape before them. "Don't think I didn't notice you just playing with your food at breakfast."

Harry felt his cheeks turn pink as he pulled a piece off the roll and placed it in his mouth.

They stayed there until the sun rose over the trees, giving the autumn leaves a warm glow, as Harry picked at the roll and Draco glanced over at him every so often, making sure he was really eating it.


	2. Chapter Two

Harry walked into the Great Hall for breakfast an hour later after going back to Gryffindor Tower to take a shower and change his robes.

"Where were you last night?" Ron asked as he stuffed his mouth full of eggs. "You missed dinner and didn't come back to the dormitory all night."

Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. Went to the Owlery." Harry knew he shouldn't lie to his best friend, but he just couldn't bring himself to tell Ron about last night. It was something important to him and he wasn't ready to share yet.

Ron shrugged and didn't question him. He knew Harry was missing Hedwig and that Harry was prone to fits of melancholy, so it seemed reasonable for him to go to the Owlery.

When Hermione arrived, she and Ron started discussing that week's Charms homework and Harry tuned them out. He caught a pair of pale grey eyes watching him closely from across the Great Hall. Harry kept eye contact with Draco and took a big bite of bacon. Draco smirked at him, then turned and said something to Pansy Parkinson.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Git," he muttered under his breath.

Hermione looked at him, concerned. "Everything okay, Harry?"

Harry looked at her, forcing a smile on his face. "Yeah, 'Mione, everything's fine."

Hermione didn't look convinced, but she returned to her conversation with Ron.

"You know, if you like Draco, you should just tell him, Harry."

Harry jumped like he'd been burned, whipping his head around to see Luna standing beside him. "I afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Luna."

Luna smiled at him. "You just don't want to admit it yet, Harry." She looked down the table and Harry followed her gaze to see Ginny talking animatedly with a sixth year boy. "It'll be much easier for you both if you do," she said and then walked toward the Ravenclaw table, leaving a stunned Harry looking after her.

Harry thought exhaustively on Luna's advice all day and he was no closer to an answer on what he should do by the time Potions rolled around than he had been at breakfast. Harry turned down the corridor that lead to the Potions classroom and saw Snape standing outside the door.

"Potter, you're working with Malfoy this term," Snape drawled as Harry walked by him. "Longbottom, you're working with Crabbe." Harry heard Neville groan quietly behind him.

Harry walked into the classroom and saw Draco was already there, writing down the instructions Snape had written on the chalkboard. Harry grabbed his Potions book out of his bag and stowed his bag under the table.

"Did you have something to do with this?" Harry asked Draco quietly.

Draco turned and grinned at him. "No, but I can't say I'm disappointed."

Harry felt his cheeks turn pink and his heart started pounding in his chest. Merlin's beard, was Draco Malfoy flirting with him?

"Snape's probably hoping you'll get fed up and poison me," Harry muttered, opening his book to the chapter on Invigoration Draughts. Harry looked up with a start as Draco laughed. "What are you laughing at?"

Draco looked at him, grinning. "Severus is more fond of you than you realize."

Harry snorted at that. "He's about as fond of me as a cockroach."

"If you were a cockroach, Potter, maybe you'd be able to tell me why you haven't started your Invigoration Draught yet," Snape said, coming up behind Harry and Draco. He gave Harry a hard glare and then walked away, criticizing Neville's cutting techniques as he went.

"Since you're dreadful at Potions, Potter, I think I should make the Invigoration Draught. Your cutting technique is better than mine, anyway," Draco remarked as he started reading the instructions in the Potions book.

Harry couldn't really argue. Draco always got O's in Potions. At least his cooking skills from the Dursleys' finally came in handy, he thought as he started cutting up scurvygrass.

"I know I'm not a Potions whiz," Harry said an hour later, "but I'm pretty sure an Invigoration Draught isn't supposed to look like that." He gestured to the thick green sludge bubbling in their cauldron.

Draco sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I don't know what happened. We did everything properly." He continued to reread the section on Invigoration Draughts.

"Once your Invigoration Draughts are complete, one of you will need to test it," Snape said from the front of the room. "As it's a mild Invigoration Draught, the effects should wear off after half an hour."

Harry grabbed the ladle and moved to pour some of the potion into a vial, but Draco grabbed the ladle from him. "No one is drinking anything until I figure out what's wrong with it," he growled.

"We may not know what's wrong with it until we figure out what it does," Harry argued.

Draco glared at him and opened his mouth to say something, but a loud explosion came from three tables away. They turned to look and saw that Neville and Crabbe's cauldron had exploded, coating everything in a ten-foot radius with bright blue potion.

Harry took advantage of Draco's momentary distraction to pour some of their potion into a vial and drink it. It was thick and Harry gagged a bit trying to force it down. He shuddered involuntarily at the taste; it was like trying to drink mud out of the Black Lake. Harry set the vial back on the work bench, fighting the urge to throw up the potion.

Hearing the clink of glass hitting wood, Draco turned back around, his grey eyes widening in horror. "You absolute imbecile!" he hissed at Harry.

Harry grinned up at him, still fighting the rolling of his stomach. "Better I drink it than you. Snape would kill me for poisoning his godson."

Draco grabbed Harry's arms and forced him to sit down. "I'm going to kill you for poisoning yourself!"

Draco walked over to Severus, who was busy giving Neville and Crabbe detention, and grabbed his godfather's sleeve. "I'm taking Potter to the Hospital Wing." He didn't even wait for an acknowledgement before walking back to Harry, who decidedly looked less than stellar.

Draco pulled Harry up and pulled one of his arms around his shoulders and wrapped the other one around Harry's waist. Draco hurried them out of the Potions classroom and out into the corridor.

"I can walk, Draco," Harry slurred a little.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, of course you can. You don't look like you're going to fall over or anything."

Harry's head sagged forward and Draco panicked a little. "Harry, stay with me, c'mon. You have to stay awake."

Harry grumbled something unintelligible before completely losing consciousness. Draco stumbled a step as he found himself supporting 130 pounds of dead weight.

Draco had to Levitate Harry the rest of the way up to the Hospital Wing, muttering about stupid Gryffindors and their lack of self-preservation.


	3. Chapter Three

Draco sighed and stretched. His back and legs were stiff from sitting in the chair next to Harry's bed for the last five hours. He was pretty sure he was going to strangle Potter when he woke up. "Only a Gryffindor would drink an obviously botched potion to figure out what's wrong with it," he muttered. "Why on Earth you thought it was a good idea, I'll never know."

"…trust you," a groggy voice mumbled.

Draco froze, his heart in his throat. Draco stood and leaned over the hospital bed. "Harry?"

Harry's eyes struggled open. Draco handed him his glasses, which had spent the last five hours sitting on the table next to the bed.

Harry groaned and put them on, struggling to sit up. Draco helped him into a sitting position and handed him the glass of water Madam Pomfrey had left.

Harry took a sip of water and cleared his throat. "What happened?" His voice was much clearer.

"You were a dumbass, that's what happened."

"I'm always a dumbass, Draco, but that doesn't explain why my throat hurts."

Draco sat down on the edge of the chair. "You're throat hurts because you were vomiting the potion." Draco took a deep breath to steady himself. "And blood."

Harry looked down at the glass in his hand for a few moments before saying, "Okay."

Draco looked up at him. "I am so sorry." He cringed as his voice broke on the last syllable.

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Draco, this isn't your fault."

"I made the potion, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you totally botched the potion on purpose." Draco opened his mouth to argue, but Harry kept going. "I watched you make that potion, Draco. You triple-checked everything that went into it. I don't know why it wasn't right, but I do know it wasn't your fault."

"How could you possibly know that? What makes you think that I didn't do it on purpose?" Now Draco was agitated. Harry was laying in the Hospital Wing, had thrown up blood, and was trying to make _him_ feel better.

Harry stared levelly at him, taking in the guilt in his eyes and his rapid breathing. "You wouldn't be still be here."

Draco's mouth opened, but no words came out.

Just then, Harry's stomach growled and provided a welcome distraction. Harry's cheeks turned pink. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"You did miss lunch and dinner and only ate a piece of bacon at breakfast," Draco remarked.

"How did you notice that when you were talking to Parkinson and Zabini the whole time?"

Draco smirked. "I'm a man of many talents, Potter."

"What time is it?" Harry pulled back the sheets and blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Draco swung his legs back onto the bed. "You," he said, pointing at Harry, "are going to stay here while I," he pointed at himself, "go to the kitchens and get us both dinner."

Harry didn't argue, he didn't think he had enough energy to make it all the way down to the kitchens and back.

Draco unstoppered the Blood-Replenishing Potion and handed it to Harry. "Drink that while I'm gone."

With a swish of his robes that Harry was sure was taught in How to be a Slytherin 101, Draco left the Hospital Wing, the door creaking closed behind him. Harry sighed and grimaced at the smell of the Blood-Replenishing Potion before downing it.

Despite Harry's protests that Draco should go back to his dormitory for the night, the stubborn Slytherin slept on an empty bed next to Harry's and the next morning found the boys sitting on Harry's bed, Draco sitting cross-legged at the foot, uniform rumpled, and laughing at one of Harry's stories about the Weasleys.

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her quarters and hurried over. "I told you that you could return to the Slytherin Common Room last night, Mr. Malfoy," she said, casting a scanning spell on Harry. "It's just as well you're both here. The Headmistress sent an owl and she and Professor Snape are on their way to speak with the pair of you."

Draco and Harry exchanged looks.

Madam Pomfrey looked between them. "Oh, don't look like that you two. I'm sure everything's fine." Draco noticed she didn't look too convinced at her own words.

At that moment, the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and Headmistress McGonagall strode in. Her hair was full of fly-aways, which was unusual, but other than that, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.

"Why is it when something happens, you always seem to be involved, Mr. Potter?" she asked exasperatedly as she stopped in front of Harry's bed.

"I don't go looking for trouble, Professor. Trouble usually finds me," Harry answered.

McGonagall sighed. "Well, be that as it may, Mr. Potter, Professor Snape has some concerning news to share. With both of you," she said, looking at Malfoy.

The doors to the Hospital Wing opened once more and Professor Snape walked in, robes billowing out behind him. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Draco sitting on the end of Harry's bed, but he didn't say anything. "I've extensively tested your potion and luckily, the Invigoration Draught was prepared correctly, however, it interacted poorly with the residue from a Baneberry Potion."

Draco was puzzled. Baneberries were very difficult to come by since the Ministry classified them as highly dangerous, which meant their growth was highly restricted. Not to mention the Baneberry potion itself was a very potent poison and considered part of the Dark Arts. "How on Earth did a potion like that get into our cauldron?"

"The best guess we have is that someone was trying to target you, Mr. Malfoy," Headmistress McGonagall said, her lips pursed in a worried line. "Professor Snape told me he hadn't written down the students he paired together, which means whoever did this knew which cauldron you would be using but not that you would be paired with Mr. Potter."

"Since Baneberry is very difficult to brew and even harder to come by, only a handful of wizards would have the skill necessary to attempt this." Severus's expression was neutral, but Draco could tell he was irritated that someone had managed to not only infiltrate the Potions classroom and tamper with a cauldron right under his nose, but also seemed to be targeting his godson.

"I told you it was a good thing I was the one to drink it." Harry looked at Draco with a wry grin.

"Yes, it seems to be fortunate your hero complex can be depended upon, Potter," Snape drawled. "However, the mix of Baneberry and Invigoration Draught is estimated to remain in your system for several weeks. As we don't fully understand the symptoms you'll experience, you'll need to return to the Hospital Wing every evening for observation."

Harry sighed. "Yes, Professor."

McGonagall gently laid her hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll ask the House Elves to move your things." Then she and Professor Snape left.

"See, I told you everything would be fine," Madame Pomfrey said as she walked back into her office.

"Well, it could be worse, I s'pose," Harry said, getting out of bed and shrugging his robes on.

Draco looked at him incredulously. "You've been _poisoned_, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "It wouldn't be the first time. I have eaten Luna's cooking y'know."


End file.
